Ichthys
by ptdf
Summary: "What for?" said Artiel, indignant. "When God said unto Noah, make thee an ark of gopher wood, did Noah ask what for? No, he built an ark."


**Ichthys**

* * *

Artiel marveled at the tiny hoopoe scratching the dirt, its crest feathers an unusual blue. Unlike the shabby mud brick house behind it. He sighed and walked in.

"Shlama," a man called from the back, "just a moment."

Artiel surveyed the rough mikveh pool in the courtyard, the tools arrayed against the wall.

"Well then," said the man, wiping his hands on his woolen kethoneth. "Father's off with the men in Tzipori. What can I…" He noticed the naked infant. "Where is your father, little one?"

"Above us," Artiel replied. "You are Yeshua ben Yosef?"

"Yes," said the man, confused.

"I have come to tell you it is time."

They stared at each other.

"Time?" said Yoshua.

"You must travel to Bethabara beyond the Jordan."

"What for?"

"What for?" said Artiel, indignant. "When God said unto Noah, make thee an ark of gopher wood, did Noah ask what for? No, he built an ark."

"You speak for God, then?" asked Yoshua.

Artiel unfurled snowy wings to their full extent, such as it was. He wished briefly he could have had six, like the seraphs, and a shining visage that melted mortal eyes. But he had two, and the melting business would've made interaction with mortals very troublesome, and no good could come of questioning these things. Quite a lot of bad, actually.

"Now that you have seen," said Artiel, "will you believe?"

"It is written, the serpent was more subtil than any beast of the field," said Yeshua.

"Skepticism is virtuous up to a point," frowned Artiel. "You've seen the signs. The Temple incident when you were twelve."

"My mother told me," said Yeshua, troubled. "I have no memory of it."

Artiel could have left it at that. But he was no Uriel of the flaming sword, no Mashhit slayer of firstborn. He was just Artiel, a bit of a softy.

"You are to fulfill the prophecy of Micah," he said. "Out of Bethlehem shall come forth he that is to be ruler in Israel."

Yeshua seemed even more pained.

"Oh, cheer up," said Artiel. "There are plenty worse prophecies. Trust me, I've seen'em."

"And they shall waste the land of Assyria with the sword," Yeshua quoted, "and the remnant of Jacob shall be among the Gentiles as a young lion among the flocks of Lord will pluck up thy groves, so will He destroy thy cities. And He will execute vengeance in anger and fury upon the heathen such as they have not heard."

"Well, that part too, I guess," said Artiel.

"If I refuse?"

Artiel was lost for words. "I… I suppose it's your call, free will and all." How was he ever going to explain this upstairs?

"Will you come with me?" asked Yeshua.

"What? No. I'm only supposed to…" Artiel looked at the man, frightened and mortal. Could anyone spend a few millennia with these creatures and not pity them? "Fine. But only to Bethabara."

#

Yeshua walked the road to Samaria and crossed the Jordan into Perea, past caravans loaded with frankincense and spice. The sun was setting when a man came running from the river clad in skins, hair and beard an overgrown tangle.

"Must be one of those Essene mystics," said Artiel. "Don't make eye contact, he'll have you give everything to the poor."

"It's you!" cried the man, breathless.

"You know me?" asked Yeshua.

"Of course!" he cried merrily. "You are the Lamb of the God, come to take away the sin of the world!"

"What is he talking about?" Yeshua asked Artiel.

The angel shrugged.

"Who are you talking to?" asked the man.

"He can't see me," said Artiel. "Let's go."

"Silly me," said the man, "of course you'd be served by angels."

"I'm more of a guiding…" said Artiel.

"Who are you?" asked Yeshua.

"Your servant Yokhanan," said the man. "I've made the road as straight as I could, my Lord. I've baptized them with water, that you may baptize them with fire." His eyes gleamed like a holy man - or a lunatic.

"Yokhanan," said Yeshua, "could you give me a moment to, um, confer with my angels?"

"Of course, my Lord," he said, stepping reluctantly away.

"He's a believer," said Yeshua.

"Disconcertingly so," said Artiel.

"While I am not."

"Not _yet_," said Artiel.

"The solution seems obvious."

"Yes," said Artiel, "we keep walking to Betharaba."

"No," said Yeshua, "take _him_. Remove this cup from me. He's been touched by God, he'll make the better King of Israel. I'm just a carpenter that wants to go home. Would that be so bad?"

A vision flooded Artiel's mind. "You would lead a long and happy life. You would die surrounded by children and grandchildren."

"Then it's decided," said Yeshua.

"Wait," said Artiel. "If God has indeed touched this man, ask for his blessing. If you still feel the same way, I will leave you alone."

"Fair enough," said Yeshua, calling him over. "Yokhanan, would you baptize me?"

Yokhanan laughed, then saw he was serious. "But I'm the one who should be baptized by you!"

"Please," said Yeshua.

Perhaps there was something in his voice, for Yokhanan led him to the river without further protest, and poured water over his brow.

"Anything?" asked Artiel.

"Yes," said Yeshua, fear replaced by dread. "A cross."

"What?" said Artiel.

"I saw you too, friend Yokhanan," said Yeshua. "Your head was on a platter."

Yokhanan grabbed him and kissed his cheeks.

"You rejoice at your own death?" asked Yeshua.

"It is God's will, my Lord," he said brightly. "How can anyone not?"

"It is much debated among angels," said Atriel, watching him walk away, "how much of the divine can fit those tiny souls of yours before it drives you mad. Now, what was this about a cross? Yeshua?"

But he had also wandered off.

#

Yeshua walked the Yeshimon waste, oblivious to the sand blasting his face.

"Forget Betharaba," Artiel pleaded. "You don't have to kill yourself over this."

"Indeed," said Yeshua. "That will happen soon enough on its own."

"But Micah said..."

"Micah was wrong!" cried Yeshua.

"What did you see?" asked Artiel.

"Down this path lies mockery, and scourging, and spit, and death. Would you still have me walk it, little angel?"

"I didn't know," said Artiel, miserable.

"Make your own path," said a man clad in a fine black me-il.

"Helel,"said Artiel, stepping between them. "We meet again, Son of Morning."

"I don't recall," said Helel.

"Artiel. Second Tenor, Thirty-third Choir of the Heavenly Host," he said, stretching his wings. "Perhaps you recall our blades?"

Helel laughed, an unsettling sound. "He sent a guardian angel to do a seraph's job. Tell me, Second Tenor, did He share with you His Divine Plan? Or why this poor man should be tortured on its behalf?"

"Not exactly," said Artiel. "Nevertheless…"

"Let him speak," said Yeshua.

Helel bowed. "Perhaps some refreshment first. You could command these stones be made bread."

"I'm fine, thanks," said Yeshua.

"Suit yourself," said Helel, biting into a freshly baked loaf.

"I thought angels didn't require nourishment," said Yeshua.

"Not the material kind," said Halal, smiling. "But I can taste the longing in your heart - delicious. But enough of this." He snapped his fingers.

They stood atop the Temple, Jerusalem sprawling around them.

"Show-off," muttered Artiel.

"Fear not," said Helel. "Should you fall, His angels will bear you up. We even have one on hand. Try it, if you like."

"Why would I do that?" said Yeshua.

"Why are we here?" asked Artiel.

"Down your path, the Temple will be destroyed," said Helel. "The people of Israel will be killed or enslaved. Do you deny this?"

Artiel found this was true. "I do not."

Helel snapped his fingers.

They stood on the Temple of Jupiter on Capitoline Hill, surrounded by marble and red tile roofs. Jerusalem looked like a country village next to this.

"Behold, the new Babylon!" said Helel, now wearing a black toga in the Roman style. "Alas, the Emperor's son was poisoned by his wife, who was having an affair with the Prefect. Sodom and Gomorrah all over again, eh, Second Tenor?"

Atriel looked away.

"The current favorite is a grand-nephew," Helel continued. "He will have a short, miserable reign. The empire will stumble on for a few centuries before collapsing in ruin. However, the Emperor might be convinced to adopt an ambitious foreigner instead."

"_Sed non loqui Latine_," Yeshua protested, surprised at his own words.

"Language is not an issue," said Helel. "I bring many gifts."

"Like apples," muttered Atriel.

"Those too," smiled Helel. "Your empire will last a thousand years and conquer lands you never heard of. All these things I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me."

"Don't listen…" said Atriel.

"How will I die?" asked Yeshua.

"Peacefully, in your bed," said Helel. "The angel will not let me lie."

Atriel nodded regretfully.

"I see," said Yeshua, watching a hoopoe alight nearby. He smiled. "No thanks."

"You rejoice at your own death?" growled Helel.

"It is God's will," he said brightly. "How can anyone not?"


End file.
